


Send Up A Flare

by mageicalwishes



Series: Carry On Sparks [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Simon Snow, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Simon Misses Ebb, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mageicalwishes/pseuds/mageicalwishes
Summary: "If you get lonely," she says, "you can call me. Send up a flare, yeah? I'll feel it"Years after that fateful night in the White Chapel, Simon fulfils his wish to go and visit Ebb’s grave in the Woods.Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 12 - ‘Fire’
Relationships: Ebeneza "Ebb" Petty & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Sparks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784923
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Send Up A Flare

**Simon**

All my life, I never thought that I’d live long enough to see somebody that I loved die - To have to handle that grief. And in a way, I wish that I hadn’t. It probably would’ve been easier. 

I’d been readying myself for _my_ death since age eleven. That fate - My destiny - That was all I knew. And while it wasn’t exactly _welcomed,_ it was inevitable. It was certain. The idea of it made so familiar to me, that I’d almost forgotten how to fear it (Almost). I’d accepted it long ago. So … I never thought that I’d have to know this pain - Never prepared a strategy for coping. 

I’d imagined it time and time again in my nightmares, of course - Losing Penny, or Aggie, or The Mage - but I never _truly_ believed that I’d be here to experience it. If things got that dire - If someone had to die; it would’ve been me (Or Baz, I guess. But I tried not to think about that). 

So seeing it here, etched in cool grey stone is … Well, I’m not even sure what it is. Hollowing. Devastating. A nightmare come to life: 

_Ebeneza Petty. 1978 - 2015. Beloved daughter, sister, and friend._

_Crowley._ It doesn’t seem real, even now. Even when I’m standing right in front of it. 

It’s taken me a long time to get here. Probably _too_ long. (So many months. So many _years_ ). But … I couldn’t face it. Not before. (Probably not even now, really). 

The first few years, I didn’t let myself think about Ebb much at all - Not the good, and not the bad. I made a promise to myself that I’d visit her one day, and that was that. _Out of sight, out of mind._

It wasn’t even really a conscious choice; not like some of the things I don’t think about. I didn’t _want_ to ignore her. I didn’t _want_ to pretend that what happened to her, didn’t happen. I didn’t _want_ to stop thinking about all the good - All the _joy_ she brought me. I just … couldn’t handle it. _Any_ of it. I was already so overwhelmed. Losing her - Really _processing_ the fact that she was gone. That I’d lost her, forever. It would’ve shattered me entirely. _Irreparably._ So my brain just tucked her into a little _‘Do Not Disturb’_ pocket, that even _I_ couldn’t reach, and tried to move on.

My therapist says that it’s all right that I did that - That I _‘repressed’_ it. I’m not sure that it is, really. But she’s been right about a lot of things, so far - Like trying to talk to Baz, and being kinder to myself in my head - So, I try to believe her. She’s the expert, after all. 

I started seeing her again, consistently, about a year ago. But it was hard. _So hard._ (It still is, sometimes, to be honest. I’m not immune to the occasional session skive). I didn’t even really _want_ to do it, at first. To sit there staring at her smiley face, while she pitied me - The sad little blur of pixels and curls in the corner of my screen. But it seemed important. It seemed _necessary._

After everything that happened in America … everything that happened at Watford - What I’d nearly lost, and what I’d nearly given up - I knew that I had to do _something_ . And going back to her seemed like the logical choice. (I _even_ managed to convince Baz to talk to her, too, which I’m glad for. It’s good for him, I think. It’s good for _us_. And … matching with him in that way, makes me feel like less of a nutcase). 

Anyway … I’m not sure when Ebb started creeping back into my mind, exactly. But it happened. Slowly at first, and then all at once - Once the dam was broken. 

At first it was just the bad: Her cold, lifeless stare. The pool of crimson, dying the ends of her slick blonde hair red. The smell of copper. The heat of magic. ‘ _Don’t stop. Help her … Help her! She’s_ _dying!’._

But the good came, too. _Eventually_ : Her words of encouragement, summer evenings spent chasing after the kids, the way her face lit up that first Christmas I gave her a figurine (I’ve brought her another one today. A nanny and her kid grazing. They look at home, nestled amongst the sunshiney bouquets Baz **_April Showers_** 'd for me). 

And I’m glad that I’ve made it here, now - Back to her. Even if I _am_ a few years late. 

It’s a lovely place for her to rest. _She_ would’ve liked it. In the woods. A soft mossy floor, and swaying willows overhead. Creatures, normal and magickal, scurrying around freely. A simple slate headstone, littered with flowers and photographs - Ebb beaming, surrounded by children I don’t recognise. Her and Nicky back at Watford. Her crouched beside an old woman, petting a Labrador. Tens of tiny windows into the life that was stolen from her. 

I’d always wondered what it was like - Her life outside of Watford. Where she lived, and who she knew. And I’m glad to see that it was clearly one filled with love, just like I’d always imagined. _Filled_ with family and friends, who hadn’t forgotten her. Who’d been there for her, even when _I_ couldn't be. 

She should’ve had longer. She should’ve had _decades_ more. She’d stepped away from the power she possessed, willingly - From the corruption of the possibilities it afforded her - and chose to live a quiet, simple life at Watford, where she was happy. Where she was _safe._ She did everything ‘right’ - Everything _‘good’_ \- and she still ended up dying in a fight that she had no part in. In a War that she didn’t contribute to. Nothing about that is _fair._ Nothing about that makes _sense._

I’ll never forgive him for what he did to her. No matter what he was to me. No matter how I feel about the fact that he’s gone, too (Miserable. Miserable but guilty. I know I shouldn’t care - He was a monster, after all - but I _do_ ). It was _him_ I should’ve been fearful of, all those years. But I was too naive to see it. Too _blinded_ by playing son. And now Ebb is gone. _My fault. All my fault._

A shiver runs up my spine, at the thought of it. My wings shuddering, involuntarily. Baz notices (Of course). Reaching out and taking hold of my hand - Stroking small loops against the side of my thumb. _I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you._ He takes my hand without asking, now. I'm better at not shaking him off. 

“Alright, Snow?” he asks. 

I just nod.

I don't have the words. 

* * *

I don’t know how long we’ve been standing here, just staring down at her grave, but everything is starting to get too much. 

My throat pulled so tight that every swallow is a struggle - Air barely squeezing past the knot of emotion lodged there. My clothes suffocating me - Fabric far too constricting against my skin. _I can’t move. I can’t - I can’t even breathe._ And Baz is still holding on to me - Onto my hand. But it’s too clammy. All warm and wet and _uncomfortable._ Every slide of his skin, a demand on my brain. _Focus on her, focus on him._ The once soothing tracing of shapes, taunting me. _Say something, Simon. Do something, Simon._

“Simon …?” Baz starts, unsure. “You look - Are you alright?” 

I turn to him, on autopilot. And he smiles over at me - Small, and fake, and forced, and pitiful, and … 

“Can you leave?” I rush, voice manic. “You have to - I need - I need you to leave.” 

He looks a little surprised - Which I can’t blame him for. _I_ didn’t even know that that was what I needed, before the words were spilling out of my mouth - but he doesn't complain (Baz rarely complains, even know. Sometimes I wish he would, though. So I could know what I’m doing wrong - What I can do _better_ ... I should probably tell him that, to be honest. Maybe later). 

“Alright,” he shrugs, dropping my hand. “That’s fine.” 

He’s probably upset with me. He probably thinks I’m pushing him away, again (I guess I am, technically. But not in the way that he may think). He’s probably …

“Simon, love. It’s fine.” 

_It’s fine._

“I’m sorry. I just - I just need a moment alone. It’s not - I’m not bad. I just need …” 

“Yeah,” he nods. “I know. It’s _fine._ Honest … Want me to go and wait in the car?” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you just - Can you just go home? Or somewhere else, I don’t know. You can go wherever you like, just not … _here_. I don’t know how long I’ll be, and I’ll feel bad if I’m making you wait. I won’t be able to concentrate.” 

“It’s no hassle.” 

“Yeah, I know but - _Please._ ”

“Alright,” he smiles. I don’t know why he’s smiling. I’m being a complete fucking _mess,_ right now. “Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come and pick you up, okay?” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

I feel a bit better now. I don’t know. I don’t feel _good,_ but I can breathe a bit again (I guess, technically, I always could - Otherwise I’d probably need an ambulance. But it didn’t _feel_ like it). It’s still a little ragged. And my head’s all fuzzy. I just - I’m glad he’s leaving ( _Shit._ That sounds _awful._ But I don’t mean it like _that_ ). 

He turns away, to leave me alone, but before he does, he’s spinning back around on the heels of his posh leather shoes. A pained little grimace spread across his face. 

“Snow, just … one more thing. When we were here, I used to go down and speak to my mother in the catacombs. You know, _out loud …_ I’m not _entirely_ sure, but I think that it helped me, a little bit. To talk to her. So I was thinking … maybe you could give it a go? With Ebb.”

I must pull a face, ‘cause then he’s laughing at me. (Not in a mean way. More in a _'he thinks I’m being cute'_ kind of way.) (It’s nice, his laugh. All silky, and warm, and deep). 

“It’s just a suggestion, love. It’s up to you. I know you don’t really like using your words, so if you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine. You’re here. That’s enough. She wouldn’t mind.” 

I scuff my foot along the ground, but then I just feel bad because I’m disturbing Ebb’s area. He’s probably right. But I’m not sure. 

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Maybe.” 

Once Baz is gone, I sit myself down besides Ebb’s headstone, and let the tears come. Sobbing to myself as I trace the line between her dates. _That’s it - That’s her whole life._

There’s nothing wrong with crying. _E_ _bb_ taught me that. She always nurtured the softer side of me - The _better_ bits (Not like the Mage. He only helped me grow what benefited him - My courage, my strength, my ability to ignore or delay every single fucking _human_ emotion). _‘Allow yourself to feel, Simon. Let those emotions out of your heart, or they’ll drown you.’_ That’s what she always told me.

I’m trying to listen. Trying to take the advice that she can no longer give. Trying to let myself cry, or talk, or scream, or crash about. To do _whatever_ it is that I need to do, to get it out. To free myself of it, so that I can be _me_ again. (I think that’s partly why I’m here today, actually. To face it. To loosen its grip on my heart, so that I can begin to learn to live with it. To allow myself to remember her - Who she was and what happened - so that I can try to move on). 

I sit there and I cry. _I cry, and cry, and cry._ Until I can get the words out: 

“Hullo, Ebb. It’s Simon. Simon Snow -” _Stupid. She knows who I am._ “Sorry I haven’t visited before now. I meant to, and I did _try,_ but I just _… couldn’t._ I hope that’s okay … Baz says that I should try and talk to you - You’ll be glad to know that we’re not at each other's throats anymore. Not in a bad way, anyway.” I say, chuckling meekly. I think she may have suspected about Baz and I, to be honest. I _was_ obsessed with him. “I - I don’t really have much to say. Just … I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry that you got dragged into it. You only ever wanted peace, I _know_ that. But, thank you for saving Aggie, for me. That was my job, really. My responsibility. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

I suck in a breath and choke - Spluttering on the ground like a fool (I’m glad I sent Baz away, now, because this is just _humiliating._ My face must be a wreck - All wet and puffy - and I’m spitting all over the place. Which isn’t _exactly_ the most alluring of sights. Not that he’d really care). 

“Everyone says that I saved the World of Mages, and I kind of did, in the end. But … I know I couldn’t have done it without you. Without your help. I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t be _half_ of what I am without you, actually. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. I wish, more than _anything,_ that I could’ve. And … yeah. Thank you for what you did - That day, and before. I can’t ever - You won’t ever know how much I appreciate you. How much you mean - How much you _meant_ to me. But it’s … it’s nice to be able to tell you, finally. I wish I could’ve done it properly … _before_. But I think that you could probably still tell; even if I never managed to say it in so many words. I hope - I hope you knew how much I loved you. How much I still do.”

And after that, there’s nothing else to say (Nothing that I can manage right now, anyway). So I hang my head forwards, and let it wash over me. Let the words - My confession - lighten me. 

I still feel like lead, though. Like I’m empty. Like I'm scorched ... I still _ache._ But I suppose that it’s a start. 

* * *

**_BP (20:34):_ ** _At the gate._

Picking myself up off the floor, I dust my jeans down and try to relax (I don’t want to make him to worry about me. He _always_ worries about me). 

“I’ll visit you again, when I can, Ebb,” I sigh. “I _promise._ Hopefully - Hopefully it won’t be too long … And I’ll bring another figure. As a gift. Maybe a sheep, or something. Sound okay?” 

I don’t know why I’m asking her a question (‘Cause I’m a moron, probably). It’s not like she can answer. Even if she _can_ hear me (Which she probably can’t). 

“Alright,” I say, feeling disgracefully awkward. I don’t really want to say goodbye to her just yet, but it's getting cold. And dark. And I want to get back home soon-ish (We're all gonna watch Spider Man together). “Well … Goodbye. For now.” 

And then I turn - Back towards Baz. Back towards the rest of my life. 

I don’t look back - _I can’t look back._ But I’ll visit her again, someday. Someday _soon._

When I get to the gate, Baz is clutching a paper cup, and beaming at me (I think he’s doing it to try and make me feel better.) (It does. A little). 

“Doing alright?” he asks.

I nod, worried that if I try to talk, I’ll just start blubbering again (My hoodie sleeve is already uncomfortably sodden, from wiping at my face. So I’d really rather _not_ ). He doesn’t push it, though. He understands. 

“Thought you might be thirsty,” he says, waving the cup in front of me. “Your _favourite_ … I got you a brownie, too. If you want it.” 

I don’t know what comes over me then, to be honest. One second I’m gawping at him and his stupidly sweet gesture, and the next I’m yanking him down into a kiss, by the back of his neck. Crashing against him roughly. Baz’s startled yelp, muffled against my lips. 

I don’t normally like being touched much at all when I’m upset (Probably a residual hang up from the threat of going off), but I need him like this now. So I take it - Because I know he’ll let me. Because I know he’ll _want_ me to. 

He tastes like sugar, ‘cause of that stupid pumpkin drink he likes. But he feels like coming home. 

I pull away, and Baz flushes, in a daze. My heart squeezing at the sight of him (In a good way, obviously). I still can’t believe that I get to have him like this, half of the time. _He’s so lovely._ And I’ll tell him as much, later … when I can (I like telling him the good stuff. He goes all gooey when I do - It’s _ridiculous_ ). 

“Steady on, Snow,” he laughs. “It’s just hot chocolate.” 

“No, it’s - Just … come on.”

We don’t talk most of the ride home; the only meaningful sound, droning out of his radio (He’s playing that Talking Heads violin cover he likes) (He can play this one himself, without sheet music, or anything. It’s _proper_ impressive). 

“Baz,” I mumble, gripping at his thigh. “Is there somewhere we can pull over. A field, or something?” 

Grey eyes dart up to meet mine in the rearview mirror, panicked. 

“Are you going to be sick?” 

“No,” I groan. “Nothing like that. I just - I just need a favour … One that requires open space. A _private_ open space.” 

He grins over at me, then - Tongue pressing against his front teeth, cheekily ( _Prat._ He _should_ be watching the road).

“I warn you, Snow, I will _not_ lower myself to dogging. No matter how much I may want to ravish you.” 

“Fucking hell, Baz,” I snort, thwacking at his arm. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant.” 

“I know. You’re _much_ too vanilla for that sort of thing, darling. Thank Crowley … But, I’m sure that we can find somewhere suitable for your … whatever it is that you’re planning. Do we need to get there quickly? I can cast a **_‘Time flies’_** , if need be.”

“Nah,” I smile, shuffling back in my seat. “There’s no rush. Just … before we get home.” 

We end up pulling into a field, just off of a roundabout, that fills all of my criteria. But I’m a _little_ bit worried that we’re going to get yelled at by some farmer. Or bulldozed by a cow. (Baz assures me that we’ll be fine, though. _‘Country bumpkins and mooing blood bags, are no match for me, Snow.’_ That’s what he'd said. The _arrogant sod._ ) 

Now that we’re here, though, I’m starting to doubt myself. Is this stupid? … _Probably._ I mean … there’s no real _purpose_ to it. But … I can’t seem to get it out of my head - What she’d said to me that last time I saw her. _Can she see? Will she feel it?_ I’m not sure. But I suppose that there's no point shying away from it now. 

“Do you know how to spell a flare?” I ask. 

“A _flare_?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?” He drawls, squinting suspiciously. 

“I don’t know, I just - Do you know how?” 

“Yeah. Should do. Hold on,” he says, fiddling with his cuff, and retrieving his wand. Pointing it skyward, before booming out an **_‘SOS’_ **. 

Blinding hot fire, shooting from his wand - Lighting the sky a menacing shade of red, before falling and fading back to black.

It’s _beautiful._ And eerie (Kinda like a forest in the night). 

Finally satisfied, I drop down to the floor. Baz following, wordlessly (Even though he’s wearing those fancy, light pink trousers, that’ll definitely stain). Sitting besides me, crossed legged in the grass - His knee bumping purposefully against mine. 

“Another one?” he asks. 

“Nah,” I breathe, tilting my head over to rest against his shoulder. _It feels far too heavy today._ “Not yet. It’s … it’s Ebb.” 

I don’t really know _why_ I feel as though I owe him an explanation - I mean, he hasn’t _asked_ for one - but I do. He’s privy to all of my little secrets, these days. So he should be allowed to know this one too … I know he won’t judge me for it. 

“What’s Ebb?”

He’s hovering his hand above my waist now - _A question._ I tug his wrist closer, and lay his palm against me - _An answer._

“The flare. Or, well … Ebb is why I wanted it. The last conversation we had, before I came to Hampshire. She said that I could send up a flare, if I needed her. If I got lonely. She said that she would feel it. I know - I know that it’s stupid. I mean, she can’t - I know-”

“It’s not stupid, Simon,” he interrupts, voice as soft as anything. “I understand. You don’t have to try and justify yourself to me.” 

“Okay,” I smile, pushing myself up and pressing a kiss to the crest of his hairline. _Fucking vampire._ _How_ he manages to make a widows peak look fit, I’ll never know. “Thank you.” 

“It’s alright,” he says, laying himself out on the ground, and tugging me down with him. Grabbing a hold of my hand, and kissing the centre of my palm.

Feeling entirely safe, I close my eyes, and I let myself miss her - Her wise rambles, and her soft touch. Her unashamed tears. Her friendship. Her love. Her _care_. 

_‘You’re not alone, my lamb,’_ she’d told me, the Easter holidays of third year. _‘Even if you can’t always see it, there are people here who love you. Who’ll always love you. Even if they can’t be with you, right now. And … I'm still here, aren't I? Whenever you need me,_ _you just come a’knocking, and I’ll be there. Promise.'_

She couldn’t keep her promise, in the end.

I can knock all I want … but nobody will come. Nobody will _ever_ come again. Her shack is empty now. _Abandoned. Forgotten._

But I know that she’s still there for me. In a way. 

I won’t ever forget her words, or her lessons. The way she made feel - Happy. Accepted. _Understood._

She’ll be there in my heart, always; whenever I need her. Along with the rest. 

And … she was right about one thing - I’m not alone. I’ll never have to be alone again. 

Because I have Baz - Who brings me my favourite foods, and holds me close at night. Who didn’t give up on me, when I pushed him away. Who cherishes me. Who _loves_ me. 

And Penny - Who is always there for me, fighting my corner. Who leads me forwards, and steers me right. Who wishes me every success. 

And Shepard - Who indulges all my crazy theories like they mean something, and binge watches terrible reality TV with me.

And Aggie - Who sends me a text every now and then to check how I am. 

I can’t ever replace what I lost in Ebb, but I _can_ try and focus on what I still _do_ have. Friends. A family. A _home_ … Far more than I ever even _allowed_ myself to want back at Watford. 

And I think that she’d be happy if she could see me now - Could see _us_ now. I hope that … she’d feel like her sacrifice was worth it - That she’d be content with her choice. Because Ebb deserves to find peace, more than anyone. 

After all … that’s all she ever wanted. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this was a slightly depressing fic lol.  
> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed :) Comments and kudos, appreciated.  
> My Tumblr: [Link text](https://mageicalwishes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
